Just for fun – Budget Bliss: Bucket List

When Winter Howls, Let the Opera Sing

Published on January 21, 2026January 20, 2026 by BudgetBlissLeave a comment

We are experiencing a bit of a cold snap here in Pennsylvania. The wind howls outside as I write this, and temperatures plummet from merely chilly to, quite frankly, unbearable. We are advised to stay indoors, and even the sun itself has decided to deprive us of what little warmth it might have offered. While I can certainly enjoy winter outdoor activities, it is on days like these that perhaps we ought to turn to indoor pursuits. Ones that do not come with frostbite warnings attached.

Given the gloomy monotony of the outdoors, I also tend to gravitate toward things with a bit more flair and ambiance. And what could offer more of both than the opera?

Now, dear reader, I can imagine what you may be thinking. The opera? Where everything is sung in a language you do not understand? Where people dress in finery and say things like, “Why, Penelope, your gown looks absolutely divine. I am certain it will catch Edward’s eye,” as if you have been whisked away to eighteenth-century England. Perhaps you are intimidated by the grand architecture of the opera house itself, the richness of the spectacle, or the sheer weight of history behind it all. You may worry the plotlines will feel distant or the music dull.

Allow me to assuage your fears. Opera is far more down to earth than it first appears, especially today, when it has become a welcoming space for all, not just wealthy elites and snobbish intellectuals. Though I am sure they are still wandering about somewhere, we need not pay them any mind.

As for dressing up, you certainly can, but you do not have to. I did on my first visit, simply for the fun of it. Besides, I had a beautiful gown begging for a night out, and how could I deny it the pleasure of an opera house? It was stunning, a deep purple with a jeweled neckline that hugged my waist before falling into an A-line skirt. It swirled around my legs as I practically danced through the halls in excitement. As a senior in high school at the time, I earned a mixture of approving and amused glances from my elders.

That first experience was a German opera, Die Fledermaus (The Bat), at the Fulton Opera House, one of the few opera houses designated as a National Historic Landmark. The building itself was breathtaking, restored in 1995 to its original Victorian elegance. One step inside, and you might think yourself transported to the opera halls of Europe, with ivory hues, rich red accents, gilded columns, and balconies adorned with swirling gold details. The ceiling features elegant arches and intricate designs that invite the eye upward. I remember being awestruck by this unassuming treasure in my own community.

From the outside, the Fulton sits modestly among other historic buildings, its facade surprisingly plain. The sign announcing “Fulton” feels more reminiscent of a mid-century movie theater than an esteemed opera house, which is fitting in a way. For a time, it did serve as a run-down movie theater before its restoration transformed it into the jewel of Lancaster City that it is today.

My second opera experience, however, was far more casual. It did not take place in an opera house at all, but rather at my local movie theater. It is hard to find anything less intimidating than a relaxed afternoon at the cinema, complete with popcorn and soda. You could show up in pajamas and no one would bat an eye.

This accessibility is thanks to the Metropolitan Opera, often shortened to the Met, which streams live performances to movie theaters around the world. The Met is one of the most renowned opera houses in existence and sits high on any opera lover’s list of must-visit destinations. With the Met: Live in HD series, one no longer needs to travel to New York City to experience world-class performances. Depending on your theater, the seats may even be more comfortable. Mine has reclining chairs and serves alcohol, which makes a four-hour performance surprisingly enjoyable.

One of my favorite parts is coordinating visits with friends who live far away. We attend the same performance in different cities, text during intermission, and discuss it afterward. Even separated by hundreds of miles, it becomes a shared experience. The Met: Live in HD series offers a wide range of composers and styles. Some productions are modernized with contemporary settings and costumes, while others lean into the historical period in which they were written. Still others fully embrace fantasy, transporting audiences into worlds of myth and legend. Because the performances are filmed, you never miss a detail. Every embellishment on a costume and every carefully placed set piece is visible.

Of course, far beyond the costumes, props, scenery, and architecture is the music itself. It is enchanting, enrapturing, and enthralling in equal measure. Opera spans the full breadth of human emotion, joy, sorrow, longing, fury, tenderness, capturing your heart and refusing to let go. I still remember the hush that fell over the audience as the first notes rose from the orchestra pit, the way sound seemed to ripple through the room. Then came the singers, their voices soaring with jaw-dropping range and power, filling every corner of the space. You do not simply hear opera. You feel it vibrating in your chest, settling into your bones.

Although I speak German conversationally, it is nowhere near sufficient to follow an opera. Thankfully, modern audiences no longer need fluency in French, Italian, or German to enjoy the art form. Operas are almost always subtitled in English, allowing viewers to follow the plot while fully immersing themselves in the music. I vividly remember sitting in the theater, completely enraptured in a way I had never experienced through recordings at home. The notes were richer and fuller, the harmonies more layered, the emotion unmistakable.

Opera is more than a theatrical performance. It is poetic song and living art. It carries a rich cultural history across Europe, filled with timeless stories and enduring truths. Nor is opera confined to the past. Contemporary operas continue to be written and performed, carrying the tradition forward into the modern world.

First Operas to Try (A Gentle Introduction)

If you are curious about opera but unsure where to begin, starting with the right work makes all the difference. These operas are frequently recommended for newcomers because they feature engaging stories, memorable music, and emotional clarity.

Die Fledermaus – Johann Strauss II
A lively comic opera full of humor, mistaken identities, and infectious music. Lighthearted and approachable. It was also my own first opera, so it comes highly recommended.

La Bohème – Giacomo Puccini
A deeply human story of love, friendship, and loss, paired with lush, emotionally direct music.

Carmen – Georges Bizet
Dramatic, passionate, and instantly recognizable, with a strong central character and unforgettable melodies.

The Magic Flute – Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
A blend of fantasy, symbolism, and humor, written to appeal to broad audiences and still accessible today.

The Barber of Seville – Gioachino Rossini
Fast-paced, witty, and energetic, this comedy is a joy from start to finish.

How to See an Opera Yourself

If you find yourself intrigued, seeing an opera is easier than you might expect.

Check local listings.
Many cities have regional opera companies or host touring productions. Local arts calendars are a great place to start.

Look into streaming performances.
The Met: Live in HD series brings world-class opera to movie theaters worldwide, often at a much lower cost than live tickets.

Seek out local opera houses and smaller companies.
Do not overlook intimate venues. Smaller productions are often more affordable and can feel wonderfully personal.

Do not be afraid to start small.
Matinees, shorter operas, or chamber performances can be ideal first experiences.

Opera has a way of meeting you where you are. All you need to do is step inside and listen.

Opera does not have to be intimidating. It is a welcoming, fantastical place that offers refuge from the cold and invites you into a world of sound and story. So when the wind howls and winter presses in, consider, dear reader, letting the opera sing you warm.

Completed: 2006

Cost: $23 (The Met Live is typically $23 and Opera house tickets can range from $25 to $100)

Miles from home: Home town

Podcast From a Galaxy Not All That Far Away

Published on January 7, 2026January 11, 2026 by BudgetBlissLeave a comment

Dear readers, I have a bit of a confession to make. I am not always the posh, delicately spoken flower you may have come to know me as. There are moments when I am decidedly less than ladylike, especially when I am in the throes of passion. Passionate nerdom, to be precise.

Picture me fiercely debating and analyzing the world of science fiction with three of my friends. Add to that the unfortunate fact that I learned to swear from a literal sailor, and when I get salty, I bring the whole ocean with me. It is actually rather freeing to allow a different aspect of myself to shine. After all, we are all multifaceted beings with many sides to ourselves. I am not always channeling my inner Victorian. Sometimes it is my inner Viking warrior, and in this case, it is a girl with some serious beef with filmmakers who simply cannot respect the source material. Is it really so difficult? But honestly, that is part of the fun. My wit and banter at full strength, turned loose on a topic near and dear to my heart: science fiction.

About twice a month, I get together with Scott, Miles, and Dave to review and discuss all things sci-fi. We tend to focus on movies and television, largely because not everyone in the group is as avid a reader as I am. Asking someone to complete an 800-page novel in two weeks is unlikely to end happily. A film, by contrast, is a two-and-a-half-hour commitment instead of twenty hours of reading. Well, twenty hours for them. I can usually polish off a book in eight to ten, depending on how compelling it is.

Alongside reviews, we dive into science fiction news, theories, and the occasional heated debate. Opinions are shared freely, defended passionately, and sometimes gleefully attacked. There is a lot of laughter, teasing, and the kind of spirited disagreement that only works when everyone genuinely enjoys one another. Lest you worry that the boys cannot hold their own against me, fear not. Listen long enough and you will hear them all start to sing “It’s Been a Long Road” just to derail me. Of course, we cannot help but needle Dave for his love of lens flares in Star Trek (for the record, he detests the J. J. Abrams films known for them).

It wouldn’t be a convention without cosplayers

One of my favorite aspects of the podcast is that we do not limit ourselves to recent releases. Often, we revisit older films, the kind that have been forgotten, overlooked, or never widely known in the first place. Sometimes we strike gold. Other times we are left staring into the abyss, wondering how something ever made it to screen. Either way, the process has expanded my palate and deepened my appreciation for different kinds of media.

Some of the films I have ended up loving are ones I never would have chosen on my own. Not because they were masterpieces, but because they offered a fascinating window into how past generations imagined the future. One surprising treasure was Battle Beyond the Stars, which drew inspiration from The Magnificent Seven and the classic Japanese story Seven Samurai. Was it campy? Yes. Was it ridiculous? Absolutely. But goodness, was it funny to watch. Which, admittedly, I was already primed to enjoy given my fondness for older Japanese films. Believe it or not, it was nominated for five Saturn Awards, including Best Science Fiction Film and Best Special Effects. Watching films like this, you can see how cultural values, fears, and hopes were projected forward in time. I have found myself thinking more about how special effects have evolved, how our expectations of technology have shifted, and how often we miss the mark when predicting where we will be in twenty, fifty, or even a hundred years. It makes me wonder what things we consider innate and unchanging now will one day be quietly overturned.

That is what I love most about science fiction. It asks questions. It forces us to examine the implications of technologies just beyond our reach and to consider whether they will ultimately be used for good or for harm. Science fiction reflects the norms of its time, but at its best, it challenges them.

My pilgrimage to Star Trek’s Enterprise housed in the Smithsonian

Star Trek, in particular, has always excelled at this. It does not just explore the possibilities among the stars, but asks us to consider what is possible here on Earth. It gave us the first interracial kiss on television. It pushed audiences to wrestle with the idea of artificial personhood through Data, asking what consciousness really is and what, if anything, separates us from a machine.

This franchise comes up the most on our podcast, likely because it has spanned generations, but also because it is such a deeply philosophical show, challenging and shaping its viewers’ thinking. It certainly shaped mine growing up. I vividly remember watching the Voyager episode “Nemesis,” where Chakotay is seemingly taken in by an alien race, the Vori, who are fighting against the technologically advanced and oppressive Kradin. It is later revealed that this conflict is part of a brainwashing simulation designed to condition him to hate the Kradin. Even after the truth is uncovered, Chakotay struggles to be in their presence. That episode left a lasting impression on me, illustrating how propaganda can turn a compassionate heart toward hatred more effectively than any history book ever could.

I have been podcasting with the guys for nearly ten years now, and it has been a wild ride. Beyond broadcasting my thoughts and engaging with listeners on social media, the podcast has taken me to science fiction conventions, where I have had the opportunity to interview actors, creators, and other figures within the genre.

None of them have been A-list celebrities, but many have graced a red carpet or two. More importantly, the vast majority have been genuinely lovely people: gracious, thoughtful, and generous with their time. They offer insightful answers, often laced with humor, and seem truly appreciative that anyone still cares about the stories they helped bring to life.

Star Trek Panel 2025 Shore Leave Convention

I still vividly remember my first solo interview. It was surreal walking up to the booth at the start of the convention and being handed a press pass. Me? Press? I had not gone to school for journalism. I was a cheeky woman arguing on the internet with her friends for entertainment. I glanced down again and began taking pictures of the wild chaos that is a convention: costumed characters from different franchises co-mingling with those of us dressed in street clothes. I studied the map and instructions for where I needed to go and made my way through the crowd, stopping to take photos and absorb everything around me. Since the interview would not happen for an hour or two, I scouted the location so I knew exactly where I needed to be. In the meantime, I checked the convention schedule, trying to determine which panels to cover so I could report back properly to my colleagues who were counting on me. Ever the overachiever, I was determined not to disappoint the guys.

As the time approached, my nervousness grew. Here I was, face to face with someone who surely had better things to do than talk to me, yet had kindly agreed to do so anyway. I had carefully written and submitted my questions in advance for approval, determined to avoid any last-minute improvisation. My stomach fluttered with butterflies as I reread my notes, silently begging my ADHD impulse control to please, just this once, stick to the script. Somehow, I managed not to fumble with the recording equipment.

After the first question, something shifted. The nerves faded, and the conversation began to flow. Perhaps it was the therapist in me, instinctively comfortable in a question-and-answer rhythm. I promise there was no psychoanalyzing involved. Mostly. Some habits are harder to turn off than others. I walked away with the realization that these people are, at their core, just like everyone else I have met along the way. One particularly lovely memory from this past summer is of Tracee Cocco, who was simply delightful. She seemed genuinely stunned by the crowd cheering for her, walking out on stage with her phone raised, filming the audience with the same awe we felt toward her. This from a woman who has spent over thirty years in Hollywood as an actress, model, and stuntwoman, appearing in more than one hundred Star Trek episodes and rubbing elbows with the likes of Patrick Stewart.

Not all my interviews were famous for their screen time: Charles Dunbar is an anthropologist who studies anime

Being on the podcast has opened doors I never imagined possible and has cemented friendships across generations: Boomer, Gen X, and Millennial, with the occasional appearance by Scott’s son, a Gen Z. When I was first invited on, I never imagined I would still be doing this years later, or that saying “sure” to chatting about shows I loved would lead to such unexpected experiences.

What it has ultimately given me is a space where all my selves are welcome: the thoughtful analyst, the passionate fan, the therapist, the nerd, the woman who swears too much and cares deeply. In a genre devoted to imagining better futures, the podcast has quietly given me something just as meaningful in the present, a place to belong, to question, to laugh, and to keep wondering.

Thinking About Starting a Podcast?

If you have ever considered starting a podcast, my best advice is to begin simply. Pick a topic you genuinely care about and find people you enjoy talking to. You do not need professional equipment or a perfectly polished format right out of the gate. What matters most is consistency, curiosity, and a willingness to keep showing up even when the audience is small. A good podcast grows out of conversation, not performance. If you are having fun and asking thoughtful questions, listeners will feel it.

Give yourself time to find your rhythm. Early episodes may feel awkward, unfocused, or rough around the edges, and that is completely normal. Podcasting, like any creative practice, is learned by doing. The skills come with repetition, reflection, and the humility to improve as you go.

A Gentle Reality Check

It is also worth saying that starting a podcast does not automatically lead to press passes, convention access, or interviews with celebrities. Those opportunities take time and careful cultivation. They are built on reputation, respect for the process, and a genuine appreciation for the people whose work you are covering.

If you hope to conduct interviews at conventions, begin by reaching out to the event’s leadership to learn their specific process. Each convention handles media requests differently, and respecting those boundaries matters. From there, reach out to guests thoughtfully, ideally through their handler or publicist when possible, and be prepared to hear no. A declined request is not a failure; it is simply part of the landscape.

Always do your research. Know who you are speaking with, understand their work, and come prepared with questions in advance. Showing up informed and professional signals that you value their time. Over time, that consistency builds trust. And trust, more than anything else, is what earns you a reputation as someone who is respectful, reliable, and welcome in these spaces.

Completed: Started 2018

Cost: I honestly have no idea how much it costs Scott to host the website each month or the recording equipment for me it’s free.

Miles from home: We record virtually

For more reflections on meaningful experiences, future dreams, and moments worth remembering, explore my Bucket List and Reverse Bucket List posts.

All Aboard for Christmas Magic

Published on December 17, 2025January 3, 2026 by BudgetBlissLeave a comment

There is something undeniably quintessential about a model train at Christmas. Perhaps it is the nostalgia of it, those miniature worlds humming softly beneath a glowing tree, harkening back to simpler times. Or perhaps it is the romance of travel itself, when journeys felt grand and full of promise, long before crowded terminals and flight delays dulled their shine.

Model trains were not just toys but marvels. At the turn of the twentieth century, railroads represented the height of modern technology. They stitched together cities, transformed commerce, and shrank vast distances into something manageable. It was only natural that this fascination would find its way into the home. Trains became one of the earliest mechanized toys of the modern era, first gaining popularity in the early 1900s. These were not flimsy playthings but sturdy, intricate machines meant to be admired as much as played with.

By the 1920s and 1930s, model trains had cemented their place in Christmas tradition. Department stores leaned heavily into the spectacle, constructing increasingly elaborate displays that wound through snowy villages and bustling cities, all carefully designed to stop shoppers in their tracks. The base of the Christmas tree became the perfect stage. It was practical, yes, but it was also symbolic. A glowing tree overhead, a circling train below, motion and magic contained within the heart of the home.

Whether by convenience or clever marketing, Christmas and trains became inseparable. That connection only deepened over time. Films like The Polar Express reignited the wonder for new generations, reminding us that belief, imagination, and a little suspension of disbelief are part of the season. During the pandemic, when traditions were disrupted and people sought comfort in familiar rituals, many rediscovered hobbies that had quietly faded into the background. Model trains experienced a resurgence, not as relics, but as reminders of patience, craftsmanship, and shared joy.

In recent years, that magic has increasingly moved into public spaces. Libraries, historical societies, and community centers across the country now host model train displays each December. Often these exhibits double as fundraisers, particularly for children’s literacy programs, ensuring that the magic of stories and imagination carries on long after the trains are packed away.

It was on a cold December evening that I found myself invited to see one of these displays for myself. I will admit, dear reader, that I was not initially enthused. I am not someone who has ever considered myself a “train person,” and model trains seemed, at best, mildly interesting. However, I was willing to indulge my companions in a bit of whimsy; I am nothing if not whimsical. Imagine my surprise, then, at just how utterly delightful the library display turned out to be.

The small library’s basement had been transformed into a sprawling miniature world. The display ran nearly wall to wall, a carefully constructed metropolis alive with motion and detail. Multiple tracks wove through snowy villages and industrial hubs. A baseball field sat mid-game, an airport buzzed with tiny planes, shipping lanes carried cargo through a busy harbor, and a circus burst with color and whimsy. There was even a theme park, complete with rides in motion.

What made it truly special was how interactive it all was. Throughout the display, visitors were encouraged to press buttons and bring the city to life. A ski slope sprang into motion. Barrels were loaded onto a train car. Lights flickered on in tiny buildings. Each interaction revealed another layer of thought and care poured into the exhibit.

I felt like a child again, eagerly pressing buttons and craning my neck to take it all in. Every section had been lovingly created by a volunteer using their own personal train sets. One display even featured a train over a hundred years old, still running, still enchanting, a direct link to the earliest days of electric model trains. It was humbling to realize how many Christmases that little engine had seen.

For nearly an hour, I was completely absorbed, pointing out details to my companions and discovering something new with each pass around the room. The volunteers were just as much a part of the experience as the trains themselves. They eagerly shared stories about the models and about the local area. One tale recounted the time a major league baseball team stopped to play the local team while passing through town, a small but vivid slice of history preserved alongside the miniature world.

It was, in every sense, magical.

Where can you see Christmas Magic?

For those inspired to seek out a display of their own, they are often closer than you think. Local libraries are a wonderful place to start, especially in December. Historical societies, model railroad clubs, botanical gardens, and even shopping centers frequently host seasonal displays. Many towns also have dedicated train shows or open houses where hobbyists invite the public to view their layouts. And for the truly adventurous, there is always the option of creating a small display at home. Even a single loop of track under a tree can carry more charm than one might expect.

Sometimes, Christmas magic arrives in unexpected forms. Sometimes, it hums quietly, circles endlessly, and reminds us that wonder is often found in the smallest of worlds.

Completed: 2025

Cost: Suggested donation $2

Miles from home: 18 miles

Still curious to discover more? Click here to explore!

From Chaos to Charm: Rediscovering Black Friday in a Small Town

Published on December 3, 2025January 3, 2026 by BudgetBlissLeave a comment

Is there anything more quintessential to the American Christmas experience than Black Friday shopping? After we’ve filled ourselves with turkey, stuffing and assorted sides, whether that’s salad, mashed potatoes, rolls, cranberry sauce or something entirely unique to your family, we transition from a day of gratefulness to a day dedicated to preparing for giving.

A cynic might look at this shift and scoff. We spend one day proclaiming gratitude for everything we have only to spend the next guzzling greedily from capitalism as we scramble for more. And that criticism isn’t completely unfounded. Yet more often than not, our Black Friday shopping isn’t about ourselves. It’s about stretching every dollar to bring joy to the people we love. Perhaps I’m getting soft in my “old age” of my mid-to-late thirties, but I choose to focus on that spirit of giving rather than the cynicism.

I’ve only gone Black Friday shopping twice in my life. I’ve never been someone who enjoys crowds, chaos or traffic, and for years I couldn’t comprehend the whiplash of Thanksgiving gratitude followed by a pre-sunrise battle for discounted televisions.

When I was a teenager, my brother, sister and I decided we wanted to see what all the fuss was about. We had heard stories from friends whose families braved the early-morning madness each year, tales of “insane” bargains, crowds so tight you could barely breathe and people practically wrestling over toys. It all seemed equal parts thrilling and preposterous. In our house, where our mother had every birthday and Christmas gift purchased by November 1 (the benefit of children with birthdays spanning Nov. 3 through Jan. 16), the tradition seemed very foreign. But we were curious.

I remember the three of us piling into the car while our father drove us to the mall and nearby stores. People were everywhere. It felt like the entire town had the same idea, and the sheer crush of humanity threatened to sweep us along with it. One moment I’d be looking at an item and the next I’d glance up to realize a sibling had been carried several aisles away by the crowd.

Every store was decked out in holiday finery. Decorations blinked and sparkled, loudspeakers belted out everything from 1950s classics to early-2000s pop renditions of Christmas songs and more than once we passed the Salvation Army bell ringer. I dutifully tossed in a few dollars, still not entirely sure what the organization did beyond running the thrift store my father was forever dragging me to, much to my teenage horror. (This was before I learned how to create a fashionable outfit from a thrift-store treasure hunt.)

But the bright lights, blaring music, crushing crowds and snaking traffic were far too overstimulating for my ADHD brain. I bought what I needed as quickly as possible, then begged to go home. My siblings weren’t far behind. We left exhausted, overstimulated and unanimously convinced we’d never do Black Friday again. And honestly? For nearly twenty years, I didn’t.

Now, you might be wondering why I’m writing about an experience that was so thoroughly miserable. I generally write about things that enrich my life, not ones that leave me wrung out. But here’s the thing, trying new things is part of living a rich, curious life. Not every new experience is going to be a good one, but that doesn’t mean we’re worse off for trying. That first Black Friday taught me that environments with overwhelming crowds, lights and noise simply aren’t for me. It helped me understand what I need to feel comfortable, and now I plan accordingly.

The second reason I’m writing about it is that time changes things. Something awful twenty years ago may not be awful now. Clinging to old assumptions can keep us from discovering something new, something better, something transformed.

Fast-forward almost two decades. My sister now hosts Thanksgiving for our family and her in-laws each year. Some years my brother joins; other years I host a small get-together that weekend for the immediate family. My sister often uses the Saturday after Thanksgiving to participate in Small Business Saturday.

But this year, after we hosted a breakfast with my brother on Black Friday, she suggested we wander into our small town instead of making two trips. At first, my old aversion surged back. I could practically feel the traffic inching along, recall the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd and hear the echo of blaring speakers in my mind.

But this wouldn’t be malls and big-box stores. It would be my charming little town, complete with twinkling star decorations on lamp posts and small Christmas trees outside each storefront. Maybe, just maybe, it would be different.

On a whim, I decided to lean into the cheer by wearing my green Victorian coat and a wreath of ivy with white and cranberry ribbons in my hair. We planned to arrive around 9:30, hoping crowds would still be at the big stores. We guessed right. The streets were lively, but not chaotic, and I easily parked at the local elementary school, a trick locals use to avoid the meters and keep street parking open for tourists.

My sister and I wandered through our favorite small shops: The Tea Affair, Matthew 25 Thrift Store, Wilbur Chocolate, Purple Robin, Aaron’s Bookstore, Earth to Lititz, Bunyaad and more. Rather than being crushed by crowds, we could browse comfortably. The Tea Affair was especially delightful, a sensory experience of smelling teas and choosing blends. Most stores didn’t even play music. Instead, they relied on tasteful decor and genuine smiles to create the holiday atmosphere.

As we walked, the holiday window displays felt magical. People stopped me frequently to ask about my outfit, and my answers ranged from “spreading Christmas cheer” to “the occasion is myself,” depending on my mood. By noon the vibe shifted as more determined shoppers began to appear and the stores grew crowded. Fortunately, we had completed our shopping and decided to wrap up the day.

This time, I didn’t leave exhausted or vowing never to return. I left thinking I might like to do it again next year. It turns out that timing matters. Crowds aren’t what they used to be now that online shopping dominates early-morning sales and Cyber Monday exists. People are savvier about deals throughout the year, and many prefer to shop from home in pajamas, significantly thinning out those old-school Black Friday mobs.

Did I score any spectacular deals? Not really. The closest was a six-dollar apron from the thrift store, a lucky find that probably would’ve vanished had I arrived later. But I loved supporting my local shops, knowing my money stayed in my own community and circulated among people I care about. I loved shopping with my sister and finding her the perfect gift: a painting by a local artist.

Time does change things. Experiences can transform, soften or reinvent themselves. Of course, the opposite can also be true (as my different Disney World trips will attest, one lovely, the other quite disappointing), which is why approaching familiar things with an open mind matters, especially when years have passed.

Black Friday is a time-honored American tradition. It isn’t for everyone, but then again, nothing I write about is. Still, it sits on many Christmas bucket lists and holiday-season must-dos. And because I try to live life with curiosity, openness and a willingness to rediscover old things anew, I gave it another chance.

And I’m glad I did.

(Usually, I include a short section on how you can experience this bucket list item for yourself. However, I shaln’t cover that which the marketing departments have so thoroughly disseminated.)

Completed: Once in childhood

Miles from home: Local mall 12 miles from home

Cost: Budget in childhood was $50

There is so much more to discover. Check out my list so far!

How I Became a Lady (Sort Of)

Published on October 8, 2025January 3, 2026 by BudgetBlissLeave a comment

It finally happened, dear reader, I’ve ascended the social ladder or perhaps I was just finally given my due. After years of modest living and an enduring fondness for mud-splattered hiking boots, I am now… a Lady. Or at least, that’s what the certificate says.

This rather illustrious transformation occurred thanks to my brother, who, in an act of Christmas generosity (and perhaps a touch of mischief), purchased me an “Irish title.” Technically, I am now the Lady of Kerry, complete with a small plot of land, or as the fine print clarifies, a symbolic square foot that could just about accommodate a particularly skinny daisy. I can go visit it, but I can’t redecorate or reside there on a permanent basis.

Now, before you curtsey, a word of reality: companies like Established Titles offer honorary recognition rather than true nobility. My title doesn’t come with a castle, serfs, or even a teapot emblazoned with my crest. Although, now that I think of it, I could perhaps purchase one for my stove here at home. Historically, “Lord” and “Lady” were titles granted by monarchs or inherited through noble bloodlines, not acquired via online checkout. But honestly, who am I to let historical accuracy get in the way of a good story?

Besides, the funds go toward preserving the land and history of Ireland, a cause close to my heart. My mother’s family is Scots-Irish, and I’ve always felt a deep connection to that misty emerald isle. I fell in love with its spirit: the wild cliffs, the songs that seem to rise from the earth itself, and the way history hums beneath every stone wall and ruined abbey. I love reading its stories, exploring its history back into the very days of Newgrange over 7,000 years old.

When I was younger, I took up the Irish fiddle and have returned to the instrument of my youth. I dabbled in Irish step dance in college. More recently, I even tried my hand at learning the language through Duolingo — Dia dhuit, if you will. When I finally visited Ireland, it felt like walking into the pages of an old legend. The Book of Kells took my breath away, and the rolling green hills seemed to whisper secrets older than time. Part of me was quite tempted to simply disappear into the countryside and see if the fae truly existed.

So yes, while my noble title may be symbolic, the sentiment behind it is genuine. And as an avid fantasy reader, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t dreamed of being a Lady, though perhaps more the sword-wielding, dragon-slaying kind. If this little piece of parchment brings me one step closer to that dream, then I say it was money well spent.

Of course, being a lady hasn’t exactly transformed my daily routine. I still brew my own tea, scrub my own floors, and trip over my own dignity with regularity. No invitations to high society luncheons have arrived (yet), and my “estate” is still contained within a flowerpot on my porch. But perhaps the true nobility lies not in titles, but in finding humor, history, and heart in the small things.

So here I stand, Lady of Kerry, warrior of laundry day, slayer of dust bunnies, and humble admirer of the Irish hills. My crown may be metaphorical, but my affection for Ireland is entirely real.

So how might you become a “lord” or “lady”

Ever since the launch of Established Titles, there has been a plethora of copy-cat companies all offering the same thing, a little certificate saying you “own” a piece of land or castle in Ireland or elsewhere in the British Isles and therefore can now call yourself a “lady”. The money raised usually goes to the preservation of that land or castle, because it is expensive to maintain that history. Who knew that nobility was only a mouse click away?

Completed: 2021

Miles from home: 0

Cost: $25- $60 depending on the kit purchased

Want to check out my other adventures?

Start exploring here

Beyond the Classics: Fantasy Books to Add to Your Reading Bucket List

Published on September 17, 2025January 3, 2026 by BudgetBlissLeave a comment

While most bucket list items require at least a trip out your front door, some of the best ones ask for nothing more than a comfortable chair, a cup of tea, a purring cat, and a book. Not everyone thinks of reading as a bucket list activity, but plenty of readers consider finishing the “greats” an accomplishment worth doing before you “kick the bucket.”

Lists of Books to Read Before You Die are everywhere, compiled by literary authorities, publishers, or critics. The argument for reading them is solid: classics can enrich your life through timeless themes, enduring wisdom, and universal insights into the human condition. They can expand your vocabulary, sharpen your writing, and deepen your appreciation for culture and history. Sometimes, one book really does shift your perspective forever.

And yet, I don’t always agree with these lists. It’s not that the classics aren’t worthy, it’s just that… well… many of them are boring. There, I said it and I shan’t take it back! I’m a fantasy and science fiction reader at heart. Outside a few exceptions, books outside those genres are of little interest to me. Oh, do not mistake me for an uneducated plebian. I’ve read my share of “required” classics (even in German, no less), but some really do go on. Did I really need to know that much about the Parisian sewer system, Victor? I appreciate the symbolism, but I nodded off halfway through. Perhaps, it’s my ADHD mind which just wanders off when things don’t spark my intrigue.

That doesn’t mean I don’t have a reading bucket list outside my “To Be Read Pile”, which we aren’t discussing. They will be read, when they are read! I digress.

My Reading Bucket List simply reflects my love for fantasy and science fiction, the genres that spark my imagination most. A few years ago, I stumbled upon a “Top 20 Fantasy Series of All Time” list, not compiled by critics, but by a survey of BookTube influencers. Yes, it’s biased toward modern titles (and leans millennial/Gen Z), but I liked the idea of readers (not industry insiders) deciding which stories deserved a place on the list. (We won’t get into all the politics behind what books get placed on those classic lists, we’d be here all day with me ranting.)

To my delight, I had already read about half. The rest became my summer project in 2022. Armed with my library card and Kindle, I sampled each new series, reading at least the first book to see if it hooked me. Some didn’t, but then not every book will be my cup of tea. Others were revelations, hidden gems I never would have found without the list. They were witty, profound, beautifully written, and layered with history, culture, and insight, even while transporting me to other worlds. While none of them were life-changing, they certainly sparked introspection and reflection, opened up ideas, and at times challenged my ways of thinking.

If you’ve struggled through traditional “must-read” lists and found yourself uninspired, maybe it’s time to look at fantasy. Between epic sagas and modern masterpieces, there’s a wealth of stories waiting to change the way you think, or at least keep you delightfully entertained. The list below is a great place to start. You’ll find household names alongside underappreciated treasures, each with the potential to expand your reading horizons.

Final Thought

Reading bucket lists don’t need to be confined to dusty classics or daunting tomes. If fantasy and sci-fi are what light you up, then let those genres guide your journey. After all, books are more than assignments, they’re invitations into new worlds. And what better way to spend your limited time than wandering through worlds filled with wonder?

Completed: Ongoing

Costs: Free depending on your library, borrowing from friends and book exchanges

Miles from home: Light years depending on the book

There’s a surprising amount of things to do just outside your door if you know where to look. Check out my Bucket List and Reverse Bucket List to see how I have checked out my list without having to go very far.

The Game of Kings (and Curious Commoners)

Published on August 20, 2025January 3, 2026 by BudgetBlissLeave a comment

For 85 years, a curious spectacle has unfolded each summer Sunday on a quiet stretch of Pennsylvania grass. Horses graze peacefully beneath the trees while a few of their compatriots are dressed in elegant regalia by riders buzzing with anticipation. Across the field, spectators unfurl picnic blankets, create elegant table spreads, uncork wine bottles, and crank up the music, all in preparation to watch a sport nearly 2,000 years old: polo.

Though largely unknown to many American audiences, polo is far from obscure. Played in at least 16 countries and once an Olympic sport from 1900 to 1936, it began in ancient Persia as cavalry training and evolved into a game for royalty and, more recently, for anyone bold enough to mount a horse and swing a mallet. The name “polo” is derived from the Tibetan word pulu meaning ball, a term eventually anglicized after the British encountered the sport in India and brought it back to England in the 1800s.

Often called the “Game of Kings,” polo is surprisingly inclusive. Men and women compete alongside one another in most parts of the world, though America, characteristically, has a separate women’s federation.

The game itself is straightforward in concept: two teams of four try to drive a ball through the opposing team’s goal using long-handled mallets, all while galloping full-tilt on horseback. The match is divided into chukkas (short periods lasting about 7.5 minutes), and a game usually includes six to eight of them. The rules may be simple on paper, but in practice, it takes incredible precision, timing, and horsemanship.

Growing up, I often saw flyers and glimpses of these summer polo matches. I was always struck by the grace of the horses and the fluid choreography between rider and steed. Truthfully, the sport seemed quite magical as if from another world. Still, I never actually made the effort to watch a full match. Summer after summer slipped by, my interest mild but never quite motivated.

Was it the fear of sweltering in the midday sun from 1 to 5 p.m.? Or maybe the lingering belief that polo was reserved for the wealthy and well-heeled? I wasn’t sure. Perhaps the former was simply a socially acceptable excuse to avoid confronting the latter. Would I, a clear outsider to this world, be welcomed, or merely tolerated with tight-lipped smiles and sidelong glances?

Besides, I’m not exactly a sports person. My athletic literacy is on par with a particularly confused golden retriever. I spent six years attending football games in marching band and still couldn’t explain the rules beyond “ball goes in the end zone.” But dear reader, I’m not one to retreat in the face of self-imposed challenges. So this summer, I finally asked myself the honest question: what was really stopping me?

A little research gave me just enough confidence to understand the basics of the game. I picked out a charming outfit to look the part without overdoing it, an elegant black sheath dress with white polka dots and a flirty wrap skirt. I added a sunny yellow bow to my hair, antique gold and pearl necklace, and matching earrings. The pearls lent a quiet elegance, the polka dots kept things playful, and the whole ensemble whispered “chic,” not “trying too hard”, which is honestly a good rule of thumb when encountering an unknown social situation which most likely requires at least some form of dressing up.

Admission was a modest $10. While many of the best sidelines were claimed by patrons whose names were proudly displayed on small plaques, there were metal bleachers dead center offering a great view to those of us without season passes. Tailgaters lined the edge of the field, sipping rosé and nibbling on charcuterie. Food trucks formed a loose U-shape, doling out delectable treats to tempt even the pickiest of diners. A cornhole tournament buzzed nearby, a surprising attention, and the unseasonably cool June weather had people donning sweaters instead of sundresses.

The field was roughly the size of four or five soccer fields, bounded by red-painted wooden planks barely a foot high. A modest scoreboard hung opposite the bleachers, manned by cheerful volunteers ready to update the chukkas and scores. Trees lined either side to provide shade and natural ambiance. Everything had a homegrown, almost quaint quality to it, from the weathered announcer’s booth to a timeworn shed on the edge of the grounds. The whole setup felt far less intimidating than I’d feared, far more neighborly than exclusive. Instead of a glittering world of inaccessibility, it held a rustic charm, more countryside than country club.

To my delight, the crowd was warm and welcoming. Several patrons stopped to chat, and one even offered a crash course in polo rules. I met a retired player, his name escapes me, but his gorgeous collie, Koda, certainly doesn’t. He shared stories of falling off horses, fond memories of team camaraderie, and the tradition of having teammates sign the ball after scoring your first goal.

The game itself was surprisingly gentle. There was minimal jostling, and players called out plays supportively, checking in with one another to ensure both rider and horse remained safe. Perhaps this courtesy was because the match featured junior players, but I had the feeling this mutual respect was baked into the sport. Spectators clapped enthusiastically for every goal, regardless of team allegiance.

During intermissions, we all wandered onto the field for the charming tradition of field stomping, where spectators repair divots by stomping the grass back into place, all while pop music blared from the announcer’s booth. (Pro tip: verify that what you’re stomping is indeed turf, not… fertilizer.)

Halfway through the match, we were summoned to the center for a celebratory champagne toast. Each guest received a plastic glass stamped with the Lancaster Polo emblem. I raised mine high in salute, and now it sits proudly on my shelf as a souvenir of an afternoon well spent.

The Lancaster team won in the end, though no one seemed particularly bothered by the score. The teams congratulated one another with genuine smiles and handshakes. It was sport in its purest form, competition rooted in grace, community, and camaraderie.

And as I walked back, pearls gleaming, polka dots swaying, I couldn’t help but smile. I may not be a sports person. But I might just be a polo person as I immediately texted my sister, that I may have found a future sister date for the two of us later that summer.

Want to See a Match Yourself? Here’s How to Find One Near You

If you’re now a little bit curious (or at least craving champagne and turf-stomping), you might be surprised to learn that polo is more accessible than it sounds. Here are a few tips to help you track down a match near you:

Start with the United States Polo Association (USPA): Their website (uspolo.org) has a club directory where you can search by state or zip code. Many clubs host free or low-cost public matches during their season, typically from late spring through early fall.
Google is your friend: Try searching “polo matches near me” or “equestrian events [your city/state].” Bonus points if you add “tailgating” or “spectator” to the search.
Check out local event sites or social media: Many smaller clubs advertise matches on Facebook, Instagram, or local tourism calendars rather than big-ticket platforms. Look for community boards, weekend roundup newsletters, or even Eventbrite listings.
Call your local riding or equestrian center: If they don’t host matches, they probably know who does.

Don’t be shy about going as a first-timer, polo spectators are often an eclectic mix of devoted fans, casual picnickers, and curious newcomers just like you. Wear something fun, bring snacks, and prepare to cheer. (And maybe pack a sweater. Or a hat. Or both. It’s an outdoor sport, after all.)

Completed: June 2025

Cost: $10 at the gate

Miles from home: 1 mile

One never knows what might be lurking just outside your door. Be sure to check out the rest of my Bucket List and Reverse Bucket List for ideas of what might be outside yours!

A Blind Date: A Bookshop, A Park, and A Historic Site

Published on July 18, 2025January 3, 2026 by BudgetBlissLeave a comment

We were first introduced on Indie Book Day, with a subtle hint of mystery and the allure of suspense among the bookshelves of the BookBar. The bartender handed me a drink on the house with a wink and a smile. The aroma wafted up from the cup, promising a rare treat. With a slow sip, a burst of rich flavor exploded across my tongue, accenting the dark roast and chocolate with a lingering whisper of strawberry for a sweeter finish. It was with this drink in hand that I browsed the shelves in search of hidden treasures.

The aesthetic of the shop resembled an old private library in England with a slightly gothic bent: dark walls, rich old leather sofas, and trinkets more expected in a professor’s office than a place of capitalism. It all set the atmosphere of whispered stories on stormy nights. But indie bookstores are known for their peculiarities.

It was there that I was first introduced. Not directly, of course—nothing so uncouth. Our meeting was arranged through the usual channels: a third party carefully selecting options suited to a lady’s general tastes. The matchmaker, ever busy, offered a short meeting and a curated selection of potentials. Each came wrapped, labeled only by genre, with a few clues as to what might await.

I made my choice and a plan was hatched: a rendezvous, a park, a picnic, and of course, my blind date. My sister joined me, not as a chaperone, but with a date of her own. A married woman, you ask? Was I part of a scandal? Not when the blind date is with a book, dear reader!

Yes, BookBar not only serves up delicious coffee and mocktails with a side of dark academia, but it also offers a unique reading experience designed to stretch your literary palate. Each mystery book is carefully wrapped with a genre label, accompanied by a few sprigs of lavender, a lip balm, bookmarks, and stickers—everything you need to charm a curious reader.

A few days before, we checked the weather and settled on a park near my sister’s home. To our delight, we discovered a local hidden gem: the oldest existing water transportation tunnel in the United States. Naturally, the history nerds in us were thrilled.

The canal’s beginnings date back to 1792, during George Washington’s administration, though financial troubles delayed its completion until 1828. This golden link of trade connected east and west, serving the expanding nation until 1881, when the Lebanon Valley Railroad rendered it obsolete.

Today, the remaining stretch is lovingly maintained by the Historical Society of Lebanon County. Only a small fraction of the canal remains, surrounded by parkland and dotted with plaques detailing the history and engineering marvels of the time. The park includes a pavilion, picnic benches, and a meandering path alongside the river. Every Sunday, they even offer boat tours through the tunnel—a dream for any history buff.

My sister and I spread out a picnic of crackers, cheese, and meats under a shady grove. We caught up on life as the breeze gently rustled the trees. The weather was cool for mid-May, but nearly perfect for reading. No harsh glare from the sun, no stifling heat—just peace and pages.

When we opened our blind date books, mine turned out to be a historical mystery thriller with a dash of time travel, set in Victorian Scotland. A surprisingly perfect pairing with our 19th-century setting! I found the forensic methods of the era fascinating, especially in contrast to modern crime-solving techniques. My sister’s book was a thriller translated from Ukrainian, and she was equally pleased with her pick. We agreed this date was well worth repeating.

After an hour of reading, we explored the rest of the park. What we found was a quiet oasis tucked away from the modern world. Birdsong echoed across the water, interrupted only by the occasional “plop” of frogs and fish. We climbed a small hill to better see the tunnel and read each historical plaque. A small bridge overlooked an old lock that once helped boats travel along the canal.

It wasn’t quite the Panama Canal we visited last spring, but it was still an impressive feat of engineering and a reminder of human perseverance. We couldn’t help but reflect on how far we’ve come—not just in terms of technology, but culture and society. What would the Irish laborers who built the canal think of the world today?

Want to Plan Your Own Literary Adventure?

You don’t need a fancy bookstore to enjoy the fun of a blind date with a book. Etsy has plenty of options, and you can always go with a DIY version. Take a friend or sibling to a bookstore, pick out books for one another, wrap them up, and head to your favorite park for a reading picnic.

Even cheaper? Just borrow something new from a friend’s bookshelf. My sister and I frequently swap books this way, and we’ve each discovered new favorite authors as a result.

To find local gems, try Google Maps with keywords like “historic site”, “attractions,” “museums” “hidden park,” or “walking trails.” Check the reviews on obscure places with 4.5+ stars but few reviews as these are often true gems. Believe it or not Reddit can be a source for ideas from locals that you won’t find on the travel sites. Try searching for hidden gems in your city or browse the local subreddits. I also recommend going to your local library and checking out the bulletin board. Some cities have bloggers devoted to uncovering local secrets—you might be surprised what you find just outside your front door.

Completed: 2025

Miles from home: 25 miles

Cost: $50 (for the book and picnic)

Looking for other unique ideas for your Bucket List? Check out both my Bucket List and Reverse Bucket List!

Tea at Sea!

Published on June 13, 2025January 3, 2026 by BudgetBlissLeave a comment

Alright gentle reader, technically, it was a bay and not a sea. However, I did get to hoist the sails and attempt to steer the ship. Yes, technically it was a boat; although I”m not sure I know the difference if we’re being honest. Regardless of the pesky nomenclature, I provided an excellent afternoon tea out on a large body of water in a sailing vessel of some sort. Additionally, I made sure to be properly attired for a day’s outing on the water. With the help of a well placed hat pin not even the wind could dissuade me from my determination to have a little extra flare. After all, where would we be as a society if we allowed ourselves to descend into the mundane and boring, especially when it comes to fashion?

In the midst of COVID, with everything shut down and limitations on movement and gathering, the small but scrappy non-profit I worked for decided to offer its employees a day out with one of our board members, Peggy, on her private boat. To say that I was excited is truly an understatement. It was once again, one of those Bucket List Items that I had mentally placed under “most likely not happening any time soon” as I thought it would cost a lot of money to go. This might be the reason I was a little over the top, but honestly that’s part of who I am. I’m the woman who will put together an entire costume or outfit for even the most slightly themed party or obscure holiday.

It was truly the morale boost that we needed. To avoid a disruption of vital client services and given the size of the boat, we divided ourselves into two teams which would go on two different days. We also divided up bringing food and other snacks to share. I led the way with letting them all know that I was going to have us do a tea at sea, I would provide the sandwiches, the tea cups, scones and clotted cream. Was it the more costly and time consuming option? Yes, but I was going to take this opportunity that the universe presented me and make the absolute most of it. Before you question my judgement of bringing tea cups on board a ship, know I take quite good care of my china and wouldn’t subject them to the dangers of the open waters. I found these absolutely gorgeous paper cups online!

We loaded ourselves up early that morning, crammed into one of my co-worker’s vans like the start of some quiet, well-mannered heist armed with gps and good humor. I had chosen to go with the more reserved, soft-spoken of my co-workers. What can I say? They paired better with tea than with the loud, pirate-hearted group that went the day before, I am fairly certain they snuck booze despite the prohibition against it, like I said, pirates. Not that I couldn’t hang with both, I absolutely could. And the temptation to burst into sea shanties was quite real, I assure you.

As we drew closer to our destination, the world around us began to shift. The foliage thinned, and the trees gave way to the briny breath of the sea. The air changed too, tinged with salt and carried on a breeze that hinted at something just beyond the horizon. We heard the call of gulls before we even saw the water. Then suddenly, there it was—a small forest of masts rising from the docks like white trees, standing in quiet anticipation.

Waiting for us at the dock was our fearless leader and Executive Director, Deb, who waved us down with her signature confidence. She led us up the wooden planks to our boat, where we were introduced to our captain for the day, Peggy’s husband, Captain Bob.

I was surprised by the size of the boat as it was deceptively spacious, like a magician’s trick. Every inch of it had a purpose. Storage tucked into nooks, seating that converted, a compact bathroom that came with very specific instructions. Bob walked us through the essentials with the seasoned calm of someone who knew that one improperly flushed toilet could quite ruin the whole experience.

After a short safety overview, it was time to sail. Bob asked for volunteers, and I naturally stepped forward to hoist the sails. He called out instructions with the steady ease of a man who’s done this a thousand times, while Peggy provided cheerful backup support. I took hold of the rope with both hands to gleefully, heave ho and all that. The wind caught, the sails filled, and the boat surged forward with a kind of wild grace.

From that moment on, everything shifted into something more elemental. The boat leaned into the wind, the ropes pulled taut, and the world became motion and sound—the rush of air, the splash of spray, the low groan of wood and rope in motion. It felt like stepping out of the everyday and into something ancient.

Those brave enough made their way to the prow, legs dangling over the edge, laughing as waves splashed up to greet them. Time didn’t pass in hours out there. It passed in shadows, in sunlight shifting on the water, in bursts of laughter and long silences where we just watched the horizon breathe.

Then came the offer I hadn’t expected, Bob asked if anyone wanted to steer.

Of course, I wanted to steer the ship!

Taking the wheel was like grabbing hold of something alive. The boat didn’t just move; it responded. The wind pulled one way, the water pushed another, and the rudder spoke a language I didn’t quite know but instinctively wanted to understand. Every twitch of my hands echoed through the vessel. I had to fight the urge to overcorrect—big boat, big movements, right? Wrong. It was the subtle shifts that mattered. I wasn’t just steering a boat, I was holding a moment in my hands, trying not to crush it. I shall admit, I was not the best helmsman, but it wasn’t bad for a first go!

At lunchtime, I unveiled my small, slightly theatrical feast of tea sandwiches and scones. Though there was no clinking of teacups, people were quite amused by them. A delighted Peggy gasped when she spotted the clotted cream asking for where on earth I had found it; she hadn’t had clotted cream since she was in England years ago.

I smiled and told her, with all the drama she deserved, “The local grocery store.”

We laughed, we feasted, we sipped, and apart from poor Beth, who succumbed to a bit of seasickness, our tea at sea was a grand success.

The rest of the sail was a blend of freedom and focus, the hiss of waves, the sudden thrill of turning into the wind, the scent of salt and sun warming the deck. It was chaos and calm, all wrapped into one. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day for checking off my list. .

By late afternoon, we returned to the dock. We changed into swimsuits and slipped into the pool, letting the cool water wash away the heat of the day. We splashed and floated, reluctant to let the water go.

That evening, we gathered for dinner at a local seafood spot, the kind with fresh-caught fish, buttery hushpuppies, and that oh, so infamous, Maryland crab. I will say the crab practically demanded a moment of silence in appreciation. Luckily for the crab, eating is just about the only time I am quiet. And just when we thought the day had ended, someone suggested a detour when they spotted a sign for ice cream. Because some days deserve a sweet ending. And this one? This one absolutely did.

So how can you enjoy a sailing adventure?

I’ll admit, not everyone has a friend with a boat—or a boss generous enough to invite you aboard. But that doesn’t mean a day at sea is out of reach. You can always charter a boat for yourself and a few intrepid comrades. Prices can range from around $200 to upwards of $2000, depending on the type of vessel and the duration of your trip. That said, splitting the cost among your group makes it much more manageable. If you’re like me and pack your own feast, you can trim expenses even further. The boat we sailed on would’ve likely cost each of us about $50 to $75 had we booked it ourselves. Sure, we probably wouldn’t have been trusted to hoist the sails or steer, but with seven of us, the cost would have been quite reasonable.

This was one of those rare gifts from the universe, an unexpected adventure in the middle of a pandemic, at a time when most people could only dream of checking something off their list. I felt deeply grateful, especially after working so hard to help people who were experiencing homelessness with nowhere to go. Those long hours, with little reprieve and a general feeling of hopelessness at times to solve the problem can begin to wear on a person’s spirit. Sometimes, when you’re out there trying to do good, life surprises you with something beautiful in return.

So go ahead, pursue the good. You never know where it might take you, gentle reader.

How can you enjoy a day on the water?

Cost: Free (food was about 50)

Miles from home: 115 miles

Completed 2020

Ready to break out of the mundane for something new? Check out my Bucket List and Reverse Bucket List for inspiration!

Visiting Exhibtions: When the World Comes to You

Published on June 6, 2025January 3, 2026 by BudgetBlissLeave a comment

Pennsylvania is known as the Keystone State in part because of its strategic position on the Eastern Seaboard. It sits at the heart of the action on the East Coast and, thanks to the Mississippi River, serves as a gateway to the West. This historic and geographical advantage means I have relatively easy access to some incredible places. By extension, when traveling exhibitions come to those places, it’s not a terrible imposition for me to make the trip. Cities like New York, Philadelphia, Washington D.C., Pittsburgh, and Baltimore are all within reasonable distance.

It was by leveraging this advantage that I was able to see the Darwin exhibition at the American Museum of Natural History in New York, the King Tut exhibition in Philadelphia, and the Russian Tsars exhibition in Delaware. I’m not sharing this to brag about my state but rather to point out that, depending on where you are, you may be closer to the action than you realize. There are often more opportunities in your area than meet the eye.

The Darwin exhibition offered a fascinating look at the scientist’s life, work, and impact. It even featured two Galápagos giant tortoises. Darwin was a keen observer of nature, and through those observations, he developed one of the most revolutionary theories in the history of biology. His theory of evolution has shaped everything from genetics and epidemiology to biodiversity and our understanding of the fossil record. Prior to Darwin, most people saw the natural world as static and unchanging since the moment of creation. Instead, he proposed a dynamic and interdependent system in which relationships and exchanges alter the inhabitants of the world, who in turn shape their environment.

One of my favorite stories is how he looked at an orchid and hypothesized the existence of an undiscovered insect capable of pollinating it. That insect was discovered forty years after his death. This exhibit was the perfect combination of science, history, and anthropology. It showed how discoveries ripple outward into society and helped me understand just how interconnected everything truly is. Is it any wonder that seeing Darwin’s journals, tools, and legacy made its way onto my Bucket List?

Not to be outdone by New York, Philadelphia often hosts exhibitions and installations that rival its northern neighbor. Just because it’s the Keystone State doesn’t mean it lets the other states have all the fun. In the winter of 2007, I braved a snowstorm to visit the exhibition Tutankhamun and the Golden Age of the Pharaohs at the Franklin Institute. The exhibition included fifty major objects from King Tut’s tomb—among them a vessel containing his mummified organs—and over seventy artifacts from the royalty of Egypt’s 18th Dynasty (1555 to 1305 BC), including a sarcophagus.

King Tut’s tomb was discovered in 1922, sparking a global fascination with ancient Egypt that still persists—my own obsession included. Many of these artifacts have rarely left Egypt, so I certainly wasn’t going to let a snowstorm stop me from seizing this rare opportunity. It was history made tangible, a brush with the ancient world that I’ll never forget.

In 1998, Delaware hosted the first major Tsarist exhibition, Nicholas and Alexandra, and I was lucky enough to see it on a fifth-grade field trip. It left a lasting impression on me. We had spent several weeks learning about Russia’s history leading up to the Bolshevik Revolution and the rise of the Communist Party. Featuring nearly 700 objects, it was one of the largest and most prestigious collections of Russian treasures ever to tour outside the country. Most of the items had never before left Russia.

Among the many items on display were the Coronation Egg, an imperial throne, court gowns and uniforms, a gilded state carriage, and artifacts from the Russian Orthodox Church. Even as a child, I was struck by the sheer opulence of the exhibit—particularly the Fabergé Egg, which felt all the more extravagant when considered against the suffering of the Russian people at the time. The experience helped solidify my understanding of the revolution and the dangers of unchecked power and inequality. I’ll avoid getting too political here, but suffice it to say, it made an impression.

Each of these exhibitions made my Bucket List for different reasons. Each one broadened my perspective, deepened my understanding, and shaped how I see the world. They weren’t just collections of artifacts; they were immersive experiences that gave context to history, society, culture, and their ongoing relevance today. Most importantly, they taught me that I don’t always need to travel far to experience the world. Sometimes, the world comes to me.

How Can You Experience Unique Exhibitions?

Start by identifying how far you’re willing to travel. Then make a list of major cities or cultural hubs within that radius—they’re your best bets for hosting large-scale or rare exhibitions. But don’t count out smaller museums, either.

Check their websites to find out when they release their exhibition calendars. I’ve found that many post their schedules for the coming year, although some are less predictable. Once you know when they update their schedules, you can simply mark your calendar to check back. If there’s no set schedule, just take note of when the current exhibition ends and plan to check again around that time.

If you’re searching for something specific—say, an artist or historical topic you love—an online search every six to eight months may yield results. Just be prepared to wait. Some exhibitions, like the Russian Tsars, are generational events.

Lastly, if you’re visiting a city you don’t often travel to, take a few minutes to see what exhibitions are currently on display. You never know what rare gem you might find. It’s easy to miss out by only checking travel sites when planning your trip.

Costs: Range in price from $15 – $25 for museum entrance

Miles from home: Range from a 35 miles to 150

Completed: Childhood – College

The world may not always seem like it’s just outside your door step, but it really can be! Don’t believe me? Check out my Bucket List and Reverse Bucket List for stories both near and afar that are sure to challenge those preconceived notions of what is possible.

Category: Just for fun